


Experimentation

by Queen of the Castle (queen_of_the_castle_77)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BDSM, Dark, Drama, Dubious Consent, F/M, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Rape, Romance, Sexual Content, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_the_castle_77/pseuds/Queen%20of%20the%20Castle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus tries to win back the Potters' trust by unearthing the real spy. His victory is short-lived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Lusty Month of May Marathon 2007.

There had been a time not long ago when he wasn't sure that James and Lily trusted him. They'd seemed to distance themselves from him little by little. He couldn't be sure, though, because whenever he saw them – usually at Order meetings – they seemed to act as pleasantly towards him as ever. However, something, some _closeness_ that had been there before, seemed to be missing.

Then he'd eventually caught them looking at him across the room after the conclusion of an Order meeting. His sharper than normal sense of hearing had focused in time to pick up James's words, "… could be the spy."

Remus didn't know the whole prophecy. Apart from Lily, James, Alice and Frank themselves, Dumbledore had only felt it wise (for security reasons) to share with the Order as much of the Prophecy as Voldemort himself knew. That was enough to identify the two children that Voldemort was after, though, and the reason he was hunting them. It was also enough to determine that the spy in their midst – and there most certainly _was_ a spy – was likely either already close to or now trying to insinuate themself in with those four people in order to pass information regarding them to Voldemort and his followers. Most people didn't know enough about the Potters and Longbottoms to give Voldemort the kind of information he seemed to have been relying on.

But he could hardly believe that they'd think the spy might be _him_.

He understood that the days seemed to be getter darker for the Order, with their members being picked off one by one. And Remus had certainly been known for hiding information; the fact that he was a werewolf most notably came to mind. But surely they knew that, of all people, they could still trust him? He couldn't imagine that any of them – James, Sirius, Peter and himself – would ever knowingly betray the others. They had been closer than brothers, only a few short years ago. He still felt the same about them now.

He was hurt that they obviously didn't feel the same way.

At the same time, though, he felt a determination to prove himself set in. And to do that, he had to discover who the real spy was.

Since everyone apparently suspected him, Remus decided that everyone else was fair game. If their minds were focused purely on him they all may have missed obvious clues. In fact, Remus was stunned at how easy it was to uncover the spy. He wondered whether they'd all been so blinded by the idea that he was the spy that they hadn't even considered checking into the other people who were close to the Potters.

Sirius was the obvious first choice. He was so close to Lily, James and Harry that they wouldn't even think to suspect him. And for all that he hated to think it, Sirius was a Black. His own brother had just recently been discovered as – and killed for being – a turncoat Death Eater, so it definitely did run in that family.

If it _was_ Sirius, though, he was hiding it bloody well. He spent all his time either at his London flat, in the garage fixing his motorcycle – which _flew_ , apparently, to Remus's great amusement – or visiting the Potters. Remus watched as they exchanged low whispers together and ate dinner around the table while Harry obliviously chattered away in unintelligible syllables. He witnessed Sirius showering attention on Harry as a godfather should.

That was not the face of a traitor, Remus knew. But he couldn't let himself be lulled by Sirius's appearance of innocence. He couldn't be entirely certain until there was proof to the contrary.

When Dumbledore had announced that yet more information had been leaked to Voldemort between the last meeting and the present one, Remus breathed a sigh of relief. Unless Sirius knew Remus was trailing him and was watching him just as closely in return, it would have been nearly impossible for Sirius to have snuck out to a Death Eater meeting exactly during the sporadic hours that Remus succumbed to sleep.

He was glad. He didn't know what he would have done if it had been Sirius. Certainly, James and Lily would never have believed it. In a battle between Remus's word and Sirius's, things would have become very bloody, especially on his side.

The next best choice was Peter. Although Remus couldn't quite see Voldemort considering him to be particularly appetising as a potential Death Eater, like Sirius (who was brilliant and charming and had exactly the sort of pedigree that Voldemort sought out) would have been, he was still quite close to both the Potters and the Longbottoms. Remus supposed that Voldemort might want him as a follower purely for that connection and his position within the Order.

It was so obvious, once Remus started really looking into Peter's life. The man was alone all the time. And when he was in others' company, he seemed to be perpetually seeking their approval. A sycophant, if ever Remus had seen one. Precisely the sort of man who would either become one of the Minister of Magic's underlings, or a Death Eater. And since Peter had never shown any interest in joining the Ministry…

For all that Peter seemed to always be skulking about the edges of everyone's life, he wasn't actually very sneaky at all. Remus had always known that. He supposed that was one of the many reasons why no one had really suspected him of being the spy; he simply wasn't capable of remaining undercover, because he was so utterly _obvious_ about everything he did in life. It was a flaw that made it ridiculously easy for Remus to tail him without him being any the wiser.

Had it been anyone else, he would have suspected he was being led into a trap. Since it was Peter, Remus decided he was just being careless.

When Peter reached the outskirts of the small town he lived in, he Apparated. Remus imagined that he was making certain that no one who might be watching his house could follow him, but he obviously hadn't considered the possibility that he personally might be being watched. Or that someone may have placed a tracking spell on all of his clothing, as Remus had taken the liberty of doing several days ago.

Remus Apparated a few hundred yards away from the magical signal being emitted from Peter's person. Though it was dangerous to Apparate to a point he'd never seen before, thankfully he didn't appear in the middle of a Muggle building that didn't appear on his map, or inside a tree trunk, or something else equally as disastrous (like smack in the middle of a circle of Death Eaters, perhaps). Instead, he appeared in the middle of a bush. While normally that would have proved very annoying, it rather suited his purpose of hiding for the moment. He wondered at the pure luck of it.

He didn't normally have such good luck. It put him immediately on the alert, even more so than he had already been.

Remus crouched down, letting the long leaves of the shrub further hide him from the view of the gathering in the clearing not far away. It was – as he'd half expected when Peter had first hurried out of his house shooting shifty glances all around him – quite clearly a Death Eater meeting.

Remus rather thought he had his proof. It really would have been a good idea to Apparate straight to the Potters' house and tell them that Peter had betrayed them all. In fact, he was fairly certain he would have done just that had his body not gone stiff as a board at that moment.

He couldn't Apparate. He couldn't even move. And when the sight of a white mask came into view, Remus knew he was completely fucked.

Though he couldn't make out the words being spoken, as if his panicked mind couldn't make its own higher functions work well enough to interpret the low tone, those words were just loud enough to recognise that the voice belonged to Bellatrix Black (Lestrange, now).

As she magically raised his body and directed it to float along in front of her, he knew he was dead. Or at least about to be.

He wouldn't even get to let Lily and James know about Peter being the spy. He'd sacrificed himself for nothing. He was such an idiot.

"It would appear that you were followed, Wormtail," Voldemort's high voice barely reached Remus's ears, since he and Bellatrix were still quite far away, but even though it sounded near-silent, it still caused a chill to run throughout his body.

Remus could see the shock on Wormtail's face as he removed his mask with a shaking hand. In the following moment, he dropped the mask as his body fell to the ground and writhed under the Cruciatus Curse.

Remus decided that though this might have turned out to be a trap of sorts after all, it obviously hadn't been of Peter's making. He clearly hadn't been the only one watching Peter. Remus hadn't thought to look out for Death Eaters hovering about, too busy worrying about what Peter was up to.

It was his own fault. They'd known he was coming because he'd been careless. Bloody _hell_ , he was an idiot.

When they'd finally crossed the gap between Remus's hiding place and the circle of Death Eaters surrounding Voldemort himself, Remus was dumped unceremoniously at Voldemort's feet. Remus noted that the Body-Bind Curse had been lifted and tried to Apparate, to no avail.

"Is he an Order member?" Voldemort asked. Though he wasn't looking at him, it was still somehow clear that he was addressing Peter.

"Y-yes, my L-Lord,” Peter’s voice shook slightly with obvious fear. “Remus Lupin. One of the P-Potters' closest friends. Also a werewolf."

Remus gritted his teeth. As if all the other betrayals weren't enough, Peter felt the need to tell the enemy his biggest secret? He really was a rat.

"Ah," Voldemort said, sounding more intrigued now. "Now that's interesting. I've noticed over the years that werewolves are notoriously hard to kill, and I’ve been meaning to test the full range of a werewolf’s durability. And here you are. How convenient."

Fuck you, Remus thought.

"I think now would be a good time to take this inside. Crabbe, if you would be so kind as to knock our guest out so that I can take down the anti-Apparition wards without him disappearing on us?"

A lumbering figure stepped forward and withdrew his wand.

"Ah, without magic, if you please. The wards around the house interrupt any magic upon entering, and I'd rather him not wake up. And I chose you for this task for a reason."

He imagined Crabbe's grim smile, hidden behind his mask, as he stepped further toward Remus, pulling the sleeve of his robe back to reveal his marked forearm.

He caught the sight of Crabbe's fist pummelling towards his face the moment before it impacted.

* * *

Remus did not regain consciousness swiftly, as was his usual trend. He felt groggy, and could barely lift his head from the hard surface it was lying on. It didn't take him more than a moment to remember where he was.

He could feel the others' eyes on him. And judging from the coldness of the floor against his skin, he could tell that they were probably seeing quite a lot of him.

What kind of people stripped a man butt naked while he was unconscious and concussed, anyway? And then gathered around and stared at his body? They were obviously the particularly perverted brand of evil.

"Finally. I was beginning to think that Crabbe had clobbered you into a coma. It would have been a waste to finish you off so quickly, I think. I'm quite looking forward to the night of the full moon, when I can make myself another wolf-skin rug. The one just across the room is getting a little worn."

Remus remained silent, though he did shift himself a bit so that he could see the man who was speaking. Voldemort had a manic sort of gleam in his red eyes as he smirked down at Remus.

"And we have a few uses for you prior to killing you, of course. Lucius, if you would do the honours?"

The spell was clearly non-verbal, as Remus didn't hear any incantation. However, he didn't need to know the spell's name to be able to tell its effects quite clearly and immediately.

Remus was suddenly so achingly hard that he feared the blood filling his cock would make it explode. It hurt, oh, it _hurt_. He cried out, writhing on the ground, the hands tied behind his back yanking against their magical bindings, struggling to pull themselves around to the front of his body and give himself some relief.

He couldn't stand it. It was unbearable.

"Fuck!" he yelled. "Stop it! Jesus!"

A strangled noise escaped his throat.

Remus quickly gave up on freeing his hands when the sensation started to fade out of them from being so constricted. With a good deal of effort, he rolled himself onto his stomach, ignoring the pain that resulted. He thrust against the hard floor, but it was unyielding and cold. It hurt him more than it helped. He let out a frustrated groan, to the Death Eaters' great collective amusement.

Then he saw the rug that Voldemort had mentioned earlier. Worn though it might be, all Remus could see in front of him was the possibility of sweet relief. He rolled over once again, then again, until he felt the tickling sensation of fur against his cheek. He shuffled his body up, knowing he looked like an idiot even without the jeers from those encircling him telling him as much.

And then there it was. That soft, warm tickling sensation brushed over his cock and the fur seemed almost to mould around the rock hard length. Remus let out a triumphant gasp and used his legs and hips to thrust downwards and forwards, creating the friction he needed so badly.

The Death Eaters around him cheered him on derisively. He didn't care. All that mattered was ridding himself of the pain.

When he came, it wasn't pleasant. It was barely even a relief. His cock still throbbed painfully, but at least it was now mostly bearable. He could think once more.

Remus let his body collapse entirely against the ground, not even bothering to move his groin out of the wet patch on the rug until he was hit with a Stinging Hex and jerked across the floor.

"You've gone and ruined my rug completely," Voldemort said, though he didn't sound particularly affronted. "Bad wolf. Now I'll definitely have to make a replacement out of your hide."

Remus forced himself not to show any outward sign of his desperation. He wasn't getting out of this trap they'd caught him in any time soon. Perhaps not even at all.

And he was quite certain that the torture would get much worse than this before it ended one way or the other.

"It doesn't seem that the spell is particularly long-lasting, for all that it's otherwise almost adequately painful and degrading," Voldemort remarked to his followers. "We'll have to try out another method tomorrow, when the spell's worn completely out of his system."

"Yes, my Lord," another voice replied.

"Until then, you have my blessing to make of him what you will."

As Voldemort swept dramatically out of the room and his followers closed in on Remus with their wands raised, he tried not to think about what was about to come.

A little sexual humiliation was going to be the least of his problems tonight.


	2. Part Two

His body may heal quickly from pain, but it certainly didn't forget the feeling of it. Though he suspected the morning-after ache was more psychological than real, he still couldn't shake it.

Remus knew that there was more soon to come, if the way the Death Eaters gathered around him seemed to loom over him in anticipation.

His first instinct, upon seeing them conglomerate around him as if he was some sort of spectacle to be watched had been to run. He was no longer tied up, of course, so theoretically he could at least take a shot at escaping. Practically, however, he was weary down to his very bones. Even if he had been at his best, there were just too many of them, and they were armed where he was not.

There was no chance to get away. They'd kill him as soon as he tried. And Remus hadn't given up all hope quite to the point of being suicidal. Yet.

When Voldemort stepped into the circle of Death Eaters wearing what was clearly only a very thin robe, Remus knew that he was fucked.

Quite literally.

He was unsurprised that Voldemort himself would be the first to actually touch him. While he'd been quite willing to leave his followers to 'loosen the prisoner up' with the strike of hundreds of dark curses the night before – the extent of which might have killed a normal human – the thought of him settling for sloppy seconds in this more physical and primal way was laughable.

Well, maybe not laughable. There really wasn't anything funny about the predatory look in those red eyes, at least not where Remus was concerned.

Voldemort's thin hand ran through Remus's hair and then gathered a fistful of it. Compared to the recent memory of pain almost beyond belief, the pulling felt like nothing more than a twinge. The cool feeling of the skin of Voldemort's hand as it ran across his heated scalp was not equally lost on him, though. He shuddered as Voldemort's other hand ran down Remus's naked chest.

Against his will, heat rushed to Remus's face, as if combating the cold.

"Look how he blushes like a virgin!" Voldemort crowed. "Never fear, little werewolf. We'll more than remedy that soon enough."

He glared at Voldemort. Even though it was hardly that most worrying part of what had just been said, Remus couldn't help thinking indignantly that he _wasn't_ a virgin, thanks. Not that he was precisely 'experienced' either.

With one hand still grasping him by the hair as if he would run away if that grip relented – as if there was anywhere to run, surrounded and vulnerable as he was – Voldemort dropped his other hand back down to his robes.

At first Remus thought Voldemort was touching himself, and felt more disgusted than ever. But then he withdrew a small phial from a seemingly hidden pocket.

Remus's eyes widened. While part of him saw the red liquid and hoped it was a poison that would spare Remus from whatever torture was to come, that part was slapped into submission by the survivor in him. Besides, Voldemort had made it clear that he wanted to draw out his death as much as possible. He imagined the potion was more likely to cause pain than actually kill him.

Whatever it was, he wasn't drinking it without a fight.

Powerful dark wizard or not, Voldemort clearly preferred a more hands-on approach to his torture. While he could have quite easily bent Remus to his will using any number of curses, the Imperius being the most obvious, Voldemort chose instead to force-feed him.

"Hold still!" Voldemort ordered as Remus struggled. The grip on his hair tightened with a yank and Remus's mouth fell open involuntarily with the sudden rush of pain. Perhaps his nerves weren't as deadened as he'd thought.

Then there was liquid filling his mouth and his jaw was being clamped shut before he could manage to spit it out. He half-choked on the noxious fluid as it slid down his throat.

At first there seemed to be no change. Remus entertained the brief consideration that the potion hadn't worked.

But of course it had. How could it not have, if the man before him, the most brilliant man to ever exist, had brewed and administered it? Surely such a man could do no wrong?

Remus averted his eyes when he realised the man, the great Dark Lord, was watching him back. The hand in his hair loosened and Remus keened internally for the loss of the touch. He knew he didn't deserve to be touched by his Lord, but he wanted it so badly nonetheless. He wondered what he had done wrong for his Lord to draw back so quickly.

Remus fell to his knees in apology for whatever damage he'd unintentionally caused. When he saw movement in front of him out of the corner of his down-turned eyes, he tried not to flinch. Whatever the Dark Lord had planned, he must deserve. He would take it willingly. He would be thankful that his Lord thought he was worthy of punishing personally, rather than simply handing him over to one of the Death Eaters.

The whiplash of powerful magic Remus had been expecting never arrived. He raised his eyes just a little to see that the Dark Lord had stepped back not so that He could curse Remus, but so that He could better observe him.

Remus didn't know why such a man would want to look at him. The Dark Lord was magnificent and attractive beyond all reason, of course, while Remus was plain. Not worthy of attention.

"Crawl to me," the Dark Lord ordered, and Remus was only too happy to oblige. The people around him laughed, but Remus knew that they were only jealous that they weren't being paid such attention. Without being asked, he bent at the Dark Lord's feet and ran his tongue over the top of one of His boots in a show of his willing submission.

The Dark Lord laughed, seemingly pleased, and Remus glowed with pride that he had prompted such a wonderful noise.

"Get up on your knees, pet, and I'll give you something else to lick."

Surely he couldn’t mean…

But the Dark Lord was parting his robes – which were already almost transparent as it was – and giving Remus an even more lovely view of His cock. His perfect, hard cock. How could Remus, a lowly servant, deserve such kindness and attention?

But then he reminded himself that his place was not to question his Lord, so he pushed himself up onto his knees, uncaring of the harsh scrape of stone against his skin. He tentatively extended the tip of his tongue to caress the head of the cock in front of him. The Dark Lord moved to grip Remus by his hair and draw him nearer once more. Remus couldn't help but be thrilled at the closeness.

Without warning, the Dark Lord thrust His cock brutally into Remus's mouth. Remus's eyes widened in surprise and he had to rush to get his teeth out of the way lest he make Him rethink granting His favour to Remus.

Remus tried not to gag and cough, but the way the cock hit the back of his throat with each movement of the Dark Lord's hips made it nearly impossible not to. However, Remus's troubles seemed to further excite Him, for which Remus was thankful.

"That's it," the Dark Lord muttered. "Perfect."

The high praise made Remus moan in happiness, which in turn made his Lord cry out softly. He stilled within Remus's mouth. For a moment Remus thought he must have done something wrong. But when he looked up and saw the look on the Dark Lord's face, he realised that he was gathering himself.

Remus had nearly made Him orgasm. He smiled around his mouthful.

Then the Dark Lord enjoyed a few more leisurely thrusts into Remus's mouth, as if trying to get the most out of it, and then withdrew.

Remus watched Him with keen eyes, waiting on some sign as to what he should do now. Remus felt lost without His guidance.

"Stand up and go lean face-first against the wall."

Remus hurried in the direction the Dark Lord had indicated, and the Death Eaters parted before him to let him through. They leered at him – they called him a whore and other filthy names – but Remus didn't care. They didn't matter. All that mattered was Him. And He wanted Remus, though Remus still had no idea why.

The Dark Lord followed after him shortly, and though Remus couldn't see Him, the cracking sound in the air let him know that he had retrieved a whip.

Remus wondered why He would use an ordinary Muggle whip when he was the most powerful wizard alive. No, ever! But then he realised that perhaps his Lord wanted a more personal touch with him.

Remus felt honoured.

"Brace yourself against the wall and don't move," the Dark Lord said. "And count."

The first contact of the whip against his back was pure agony, and the second was only worse. Remus cried out numbers, trying to make his voice sound normal so that the others couldn't tell that he was getting progressively closer to being in tears. The whip could not possibly be purely Muggle. Nothing that didn't tear entire strips of skin off him could hurt so much unless magic was involved, he was certain.

When he called out, "Seven!" his voice broke ever so slightly, and the Death Eaters cheered. The Dark Lord didn't stop, and Remus sobbed openly as the count eventually reached, "Fifteen!" and "Sixteen!"

He screamed, "Twenty!" and no additional strike came down upon him. Remus trembled on the spot for a moment and then collapsed to the floor.

There was movement above him, but Remus couldn't bring himself to turn over so he could see what it was. He found out soon enough, though. The spurts of ejaculate felt like hot candle wax being poured over his raw back and arse. It stung and practically felt like it was blistering. He was certain his Lord must have cast a spell to cause such effects while Remus wasn't paying attention.

Remus writhed on the ground. Among the others laughing, he could hear his Lord's high chuckle.

"Not so high and mighty now, are you, Lupin?"

Remus curled up against the wall. He hated himself for displeasing Him.

The Dark Lord paced away to chat to one of the masked Death Eaters. His voice was too low for Remus to make out the words.

As he watched on, though, Remus started to notice flaws in the other man. At first he hated himself for remarking silently upon things such as how that face was distorted and ugly. What if He heard Remus being disrespectful within his own mind and decided he needed to be further punished?

But then Remus remembered that he was Voldemort, not 'his Lord', and he was a vile megalomaniac who Remus despised, not the most powerful wizard to ever exist.

The look of disgusted realisation of just what he'd been doing and thinking only a few minutes earlier must have been obvious on his face, for the Death Eaters began to taunt him once more.

Remus fell to the ground, trying to use the rough surface to scrape the semen off his back, ignoring the burning scrapes against his sensitive flesh. That feeling that the semen was somehow burning into his skin was comparatively worse, though Remus realised that that was his only own reaction to having the repulsive substance touching him.

Across the room, Voldemort smiled.

"The potion's effects are more humiliating than the last attempt," he noted, "especially once the altered state of mind has worn off. But it's far too pleasant. I want the victim to be in _pain_."

Pleasant? The mere thought was insane. The effects of the potion were about as far from pleasant as he could imagine. He remembered the taste of Voldemort's boot under his tongue and the feel of his cock in Remus's mouth. Remus felt almost violently sick, though he knew that there was nothing much in his stomach to throw up. The Death Eaters had had bigger concerns the previous night than feeding him, apparently.

"Lock him back up," Voldemort ordered with a sneer. "He'll have mostly healed by tonight, and then we'll try again."


	3. Part Three

Remus lay alone in his cell, simply listening to his own breathing. It was steady and slow for perhaps the first time since he'd Apparated into the snake pit. He imagined it must help that for once he wasn't being cursed or physically beaten or raped. Those activities did tend to get the heart rate up a little.

However, for all that his heartbeat was unhurried, Remus was far from calm. He knew that at any moment he might be hauled back out into what he'd begun privately regarding as the 'Debauchery Room', in which his naked humiliation and pain always had an avid audience. Or, perhaps worse still, the Death Eaters might decide that he wasn't worth the effort anymore. The effects of whatever they were trying to do to him didn't seem to be meeting Voldemort's approval, after all. Perhaps his usefulness had ended, and they’d just left him there to die. Though Remus rather thought, given what Voldemort had said when he’d first been told that Remus was a werewolf, that they’d be more likely to use his death as just as much of an experiment as his body.

As much as the memory of Voldemort's hands on his body – of _wanting_ them there – disgusted him, he had to admit that, during those sessions when he was being sexually manipulated and demoralised, he at least had some freedom of movement. That meant that there was some chance, however small, that he might be able to escape. But while he was in this enclosed space, reinforced with the most powerful of Voldemort's magic, that chance was nonexistent.

So when Lucius Malfoy arrived in front of his cell, Remus felt both hopeful and forlorn. What he didn't expect, however, was for Lucius to use his wand to unlock the cell door, but then to lay the wand down outside the cell before stepping inside himself, unarmed. The loud clink of the metal door shutting behind him, and then magically resealing itself, sent a shudder through Remus's body.

He didn't understand immediately what was going on. Why would Lucius lock himself in with Remus with no means to defend himself? While it was true that the full moon (which would be in a few nights, by the feel of it), combined with the lack of nutrition, was having a progressive weakening effect on him, he was by no means helpless. If Lucius attacked him, he felt certain he could hold his own.

He gave no real outward indication as to the subject of his thoughts, though. Instead, he merely glared at Lucius without even climbing off the ground. Let the other man stoop down if he wanted. Remus sure as all hell wasn't getting up just so that he could be tortured.

"I've been sent here because the Dark Lord is sick of the sight of you, but he hasn't given up on using you. I shall be your torturer for this evening."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Remus muttered.

Lucius dangled a potion phial in front of him.

Remus laughed. "Do you seriously think that I'm going to drink that?" he asked. "You've left your wand outside, and I’ll bet that you can't overcome me physically."

"I expect you to take the phial out of my hand and drink it without kicking up a fuss, actually."

Remus snorted incredulously.

"Don't bother breaking it," Lucius continued heedlessly. "There's much more where that came from, and you'll only succeed in testing my mercy."

"And if I don't follow your orders?"

Lucius's smile was chilling. "Then I'll call for the five other Death Eaters standing not too far down the corridor, and they'll be more than pleased to ensure that you do as I ask. Then they'll stay and watch afterwards. While the Dark Lord may grow tired of you, his followers are still thirsty for the sight of more humiliation on your part. I'm fairly certain you don't want them here. You don't like the fact that all your enemies can see you at your lowest point, isn't that right?"

It was, of course, but Remus refused to verbally acknowledge that fact. Instead, he stretched his hand out for the phial.

Lucius placed it into Remus's hand and then uncorked for him. Remus spared the Death Eater one final glower before knocking back the contents of the phial, trying to pretend that there wasn't a voice in his head screaming that that was the stupidest thing he had ever done.

But aside from Lucius watching him, nothing really happened. Though Remus did feel a little dizzy.

He watched, his eyes slight unfocused, as Lucius fished around in his robes for a moment and then drew out a second potion.

"And _now_ you're going to drink this," he said.

"What?" Remus said. "No! What did you just give me?"

"Just a Weakening Potion. Which means that you'll be taking the second potion whether you like it or not, because there's no way you can hope to struggle against me now."

Lucius proceeded to prove his point. Remus found that he truly couldn't push Lucius away from him. As he flailed helplessly under Lucius's grip, the potion was poured down his throat. He swallowed it reflexively so that he didn't drown in the liquid.

He could barely remember what followed after that moment apart from some mention of the potion being an 'inhibition represser' that would make it impossible to control his instincts. While his first instinct would have been to claw Lucius limb from limb, Malfoy apparently wasn't an idiot. The reason the initial potion had been necessary became immediately clear to him as he pawed uselessly at Malfoy like an invalid.

Everything after that was a haze of curses – not of the magical variety, thankfully – and fists connected weakly and tearing at clothing. He remembered Lucius fucking him hard and fast, and him attempting to meet every thrust, though really he did little more than lie there and take it without much protest.

His first thought after it was all over and he woke up with Lucius nowhere in sight and the potions' effects worn off was that while anyone who liked men _that way_ had to appreciate Lucius Malfoy's aesthetic appeal, Remus wouldn't have thought he would have had any instinct to fuck the man. Though he supposed when his adrenaline had refused to take care of itself through violence, he'd had to find some outlet.

He was glad, though, that he couldn't properly remember the experience. The small amount that did come to mind was embarrassing enough, and he hated to think how much worse the whole thing actually would have been.

He imagined being fully conscious of his actions while he let (and, in fact, helped) Lucius pound him into the ground. The mere thought was almost too much to bear, when he considered it on top of having done pretty much _the same thing_ with Voldemort as well.

The fact that he couldn't remember it entirely, though, was a fairly good indication that the potion hadn't worked quite as expected. He was thankful.

But Voldemort was extremely intelligent, whatever else he was. He was almost certain to eventually find the correct combination of all the factors he was looking for in a potion, or perhaps a spell. That day surely couldn't be too far off.

He didn't quite understand why Voldemort and his Death Eaters were bothering with all this effort for the sake of finding new ways to torture him, but he understood the objective well enough.

He didn't want to be around when that objective was reached. He'd rather retain his sanity and what little of himself remained intact.

So he had to find a way out of there. He didn't know how. He only knew that there was no real choice in the matter.

With the full moon edging ever closer, Remus knew that time was of the essence.


	4. Part Four

When Severus Snape entered his tiny cell, Remus couldn't stop himself from groaning aloud. He might be able to deal with the likes of Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy and all the nameless and faceless assailants that had come after them. To them, Remus was nothing but a victim. He was just some werewolf who was a member of the Order of the Phoenix; an enemy, pure and simple. Though they raped and brutalised him, they could have been doing it to anyone, really. It wasn't personal. And they were entirely predictable in their actions.

Snape's only element of predictability was his continual renditions of the 'you nearly killed me' routine (and if Remus had to hear about that one more time, he was fairly certain he would crack, werewolf perseverance be damned). So Remus knew only too well that Snape wished for revenge against him, heedless of the fact that Remus wasn't any more blameworthy in that event than Snape himself had been. Between them, it was personal. It always had been.

But as for Snape's poison of choice, Remus didn't know what to expect. Once he might have said that Snape was as predictable as any of them. But in their last year or so at Hogwarts, Snape had stopped reacting to Sirius and James – to everyone, in fact – the way that they'd all expected him to. It was as if he weighed his actions more, and his responses always seemed more calculated. And they were always much more shrewd.

The idea that he may have become even _more_ of an emotionless bastard since he'd left school had Remus worried.

Even so, no matter how hard Remus was pressed, he would never admit aloud that he was actually scared of Snape, of all people. He'd seen the man in naught but his aging underwear, for the gods' sake. Sirius would be appalled that anyone could be afraid of him after _that_.

He wondered whether he would ever get to see any of them – Sirius, James, Lily, little Harry and the Order – again. He wondered whether he would live to tell them that Peter was the spy after all, or whether Snape would decide to kill him now, in a fit of rage.

"Lupin," Snape greeted tonelessly, as if his very presence there was a chore.

That just proved his original case, Remus thought. He'd expected Snape to be positively gleeful about the opportunity to stand there and gloat at him, or to finally be able to take out his anger on him in any way he liked without anyone there to temper or stop him, as there always had been in the past.

But Snape never did as he was expected anymore. It made Remus nervous.

Snape unlocked the cell door and, unlike the other Death Eaters who had taken it upon themselves to visit him since he'd first taken up occupation there, he stepped inside without first placing his wand outside, well out of Remus's reach.

Snape allowed himself to be sealed inside the tiny enclosure with Remus. As he turned to face him, he obviously caught the way Remus was looking contemplatively at the pocket that held his wand.

"If you even entertain the notion of touching my wand, Lupin, rest assured that I will kill you myself. And unlike the Dark Lord, I won't give you the mercy of extra time."

Remus looked away, his expression purely sullen despite his internal fear. He didn't dare challenge him. He knew that Snape would be as good as his word.

Snape stepped up to him and grabbed him by the hair, reminiscent of Voldemort's touch on the night of his arrival. He forced Remus's face towards him and leaned in close. For the tiniest moment, Remus had the mad thought that he should bite Snape's enormous nose. That would put him off. But Snape had a wand, and could quite easily fix himself up. Then there would be no question about his wanting revenge against Remus. Better not.

"You will do exactly as I say if you want to live through this, Lupin. You will not say a word either during or after our encounter about anything I have said or done to you. Is that clear?"

Remus glowered at him, but nodded curtly anyway.

Snape gave him a short nod of acceptance. "Good. I will administer a potion to you before I touch you, a practice you will undoubtedly have become accustomed to since your arrival. If you haven't already determined as much, the Dark Lord is attempting to find a new device of torture that will keep his Death Eaters entertained and raise their spirits when the occasion calls for it. Since the job attracts a particular kind of person, he has chosen aphrodisiacs of sorts, usually with negative effects. You are the unfortunate lab rat that he is trying the candidate potions and spells out on.

"I have been ordered to give you a sensitivity potion. The effect of it is to first make you crave contact against your hypersensitive skin and then to make the very contact you have begged for and still need beyond all things become unbearably painful. The potion is long-lasting and eventually fatal. The Dark Lord is unconcerned about this effect, as he intends for you to be dead long before the potion reaches its inevitable conclusion. Tonight is the full moon. He will attempt to use you in your wolf form to attack a particularly recalcitrant family, who all refuse to support him, while they think they are safe in their beds. Then, before the night is up, he will put you down like the rabid animal you are. He was being entirely serious when he said he wanted to make a new rug out of you."

Remus's heart raced. He'd known that his death was only just around the corner, of course, but to be told the exact time and method, especially that his death would come after he was used to hurt other people… and to know that all of that would happen in less than twenty-four hours…

"So I will give you a potion, as I've been ordered,” Snape continued. “But I have substituted the potion I have mentioned for a dose of Wolfsbane Potion. Hastily brewed though it admittedly was, it should prove effective"

Remus's eyes widened. Wolfsbane? Hardly anyone could successfully brew that at this early stage of the potion's development. It certainly wasn't yet on the market to be bought. That meant that Snape must have brewed it himself. Remus opened his mouth to ask why Snape of all people would want to do that for him, but Snape's pointed glare stopped the words before they came. Right. He'd promised to be quiet, hadn't he?

"That will mean," Snape continued, "that you will have to fake the effects of the real potion as I have described them to you. Any actions performed in this room – though not any words spoken, thankfully – are being recorded by a monitoring spell so that the Dark Lord can later judge the success of each potion after it has been administered, so that his actual presence is not required.

"If you have any acting skills at all, Lupin, now would be the time to call on them. If you fail to do so, I have the real potion in my pocket and will not hesitate to administer it to you. I won't give up my position in the Death Eaters just to save _your_ pathetic life."

Remus's brain felt like it was going to explode from the sudden influx of new information. Did this mean that Snape wasn't a loyal Death Eater? He couldn't imagine how that could possibly be the case, but the evidence seemed suddenly overwhelming.

He'd certainly been right about Snape's lack of predictability. There was no way Remus could have foreseen this.

Snape uncapped the potion and glared at Remus pointedly. Remus, getting the hint, struggled away from him. Once Snape had forced the potion into his mouth, Remus didn't have to fake wanting to spit the concoction out. The Wolfsbane tasted as foul as ever. He had to admit, though, that its familiar flavour was a comfort to him. Until that moment, he hadn't entirely believed Snape's words. The whole concept of him helping Remus seemed ludicrous, after all.

When Remus had swallowed it (and forced himself not to throw it straight back up), Snape took a step back.

"Can you feel that, Lupin?" he asked. His was voice suddenly raised. "The feeling that your skin is alive, shifting over your bones?"

It took Remus a long moment to figure out what on earth Snape was up to. Then he realised that Snape was giving him prompts for his actions. At the same time he was probably trying to make certain the guards – who Remus was certain after a week or so of this same routine, were stationed down the hallway just out of his sight – could hear that everything was going according to plan.

Remus forced himself to squirm a little, as if his skin was crawling. It earned him a barely-there approving look that could easily be taken as a grimace from Snape. Though Remus would hardly call that look encouraging, he understood that it was Snape's way of telling him that he was doing the right thing.

According to Snape's increasingly subtle hints, Remus shuddered a little – he only had to remember that Snape's dark eyes were taking in the sight of him naked, and that Snape would soon be doing a lot more than just observing him, to produce a realistic sort of trembling – and eventually started scratching his skin all over as if he were covered in insects.

Apparently, he wasn't quite as good at forcing his body to mimic the correct reactions as Snape had hoped, though. He found that he couldn't make his penis hard on command when it was suggested the potion would be beginning to have that effect on him. The cell contained too many memories of pain and torture and seemingly endless hours of rape at the hands of men he often couldn't identify behind their masks. No amount of imagining arousing things could overcome that, apparently.

To cover up the fact that Remus wasn't reacting as he should be, Snape cupped his hand over Remus's prick and squeezed just the right amount. In spite of himself, the blood did, in fact, begin moving in the general direction of his groin, though it seemed almost hesitant to do so.

He had never expected that Snape would be able to make him hard without some kind of magical aid. That he would arouse him with a single touch, in fact. Granted, of course, that that touch was directly to his cock, and Remus was a twenty-one year old man with too many hormones in his body. Even with that in mind, he still thought his ordeal over the past week or so must have permanently affected him. Or something.

"Ah, there we go," Snape breathed, and for a moment Remus could imagine that they were both there of their own accord, just two men who wanted to shag each other. The way sex should have been, and had once been. But it would never have been like that between Snape and himself. They would have stayed enemies forever.

This would not change that. Though Remus felt more inclined to be friendly towards Snape with the thought that he was effectively saving Remus's life in mind, he doubted Snape would ever so much as be civil towards him.

Remus thought that was ultimately a pity. Then he wondered where that strange thought had come from.

He was going mad. That was the only possible answer, both to his train of thought and to his physical reaction to Snape.

His cock was now almost fully erect, and Snape's mocking reminded him that he had to be seen to be more than just aroused. He had to crave Snape's touch. He arched his body into Snape's hand in a way that he hoped would appear unintentional and then quickly pulled away. The blush on his face was part manufactured, part real.

"My, my, Lupin, aren't you the eager little whore?" Snape said with a quirked eyebrow.

"Fuck you," Remus breathed, moving his hand down to his cock and grinding into it, as if he simply couldn't stand the lack of friction. And to be honest, he was starting to feel quite ready for Snape to hurry up and touch him again. He wanted to get off, as foreign as the concept seemed to him after repeatedly suffering enforced orgasms.

Snape withdrew a feather from his robes.

"You're kidding, right?" Remus said with a pained sort of half-laugh.

Snape's lips quirked slightly, and Remus could tell that Snape was going to enjoy this small torture he was planning to inflict on Remus.

The tickle of the feather across his neck and chest, and even down his thighs, wasn't so bad. He made certain to arch into every caress, though, to maintain the fiction that his skin was becoming more sensitive by the moment. Then Snape caressed it down the length of his cock and circled it around the head, and repeated the action again, and then again. Remus's uncomfortable shifting was suddenly real, and his groans of appreciation were heartfelt.

"You're like an animal in heat, Lupin," Snape said scornfully. "You're nothing more than a beast."

And yet Snape didn't move away from him, disgusted, as might have been expected from the tone. Instead, he discarded the feather and took his wand in hand in its place. Within a second, without any notice, Snape was naked before him. Remus spied his clothing neatly banished across the room and then looked back to take in the sight of Snape. He was more developed now than the last time Remus had seen his near-naked body, but Snape was still anything but physically attractive, even with a hard cock bobbing between his legs.

He'd gotten hard, looking at Remus and touching him like that. Remus looked at Snape with a new kind of wonder.

Perhaps proximity to the Death Eaters had driven both of them a little out of their right minds. Or perhaps Snape, at least, had already been depraved that way. He had _joined_ the Death Eaters, after all.

Snape pushed Remus to the ground and followed him down. Snape lined them up and thrust their cocks together. The sensations from his cock and the scrape of stone against his back and arse made Remus hiss.

"Starting to feel a little uncomfortable, is it?" Snape taunted, though he sounded somewhat short of breath as he continued thrusting against him.

Ah, that would be his cue to act like it was starting to hurt. It was difficult, since the sensation really felt quite the opposite of painful. Snape, seeming to sense his dilemma, pulled away a little. Then he scraped his fingernails down Remus's thighs. Remus whimpered and struggled, as if he couldn't decide whether to move into the touch or scurry away.

"Let's see if I can make you scream," Snape whispered as he flipped Remus over onto his stomach.

The small cries of pain and watering eyes were actually natural reactions. It was only to be expected, considering that Snape didn't lubricate him or make any attempt to stretch and prepare him before thrusting in. Remus imagined that Snape might have foregone the preparation intending to make his reactions seem more realistic. Of course, there was also the obvious need not to let Voldemort know that anything was amiss; Snape was supposed to hate him, and as such he certainly wouldn't be showing him the kindness of making his 'rape' hurt less.

Or, well, there was nothing saying that Snape didn’t legitimately want to hurt him a bit. The fact that he didn’t seem to want Remus _dead_ for some reason didn’t mean that Snape wasn’t still a complete bastard who hated him.

Snape's fingers digging into Remus's sides reminded him to make his pain more obvious, and Remus did so. By the time his screams had reached full volume and his throat was beginning to feel raw, he felt Snape's cock starting to soften within him.

He didn't blame the man. It couldn't be easy to keep an erection with all those noises of pain going on around him, unless one was particularly into that sort of thing. The fact that Snape clearly wasn't did more to reassure Remus that he wasn't a sadistic Death Eater – though he was clearly some kind of Death Eater, if the Mark that stood out from the pale skin of his arm was any indication – than anything he had done up to that point.

Snape was obviously a brilliant actor as well, for he chose that moment to fake his orgasm so well that Remus would certainly have believed it was real if he hadn't clearly felt the lack of semen gushing into him. As Snape pulled his softening cock out of Remus's arse, Remus gave one more startled little shriek before he let himself fall to the ground with a loud moan. He continued whimpering every now and then as if the movement of the air around him was enough to cause him pain. He imagined that would be the case if he actually was under the influence of the potion. Snape didn't say anything to the contrary.

Instead, Snape moved to the corner to redress himself. When he'd regained his composure as well as his clothing, he strode back across the cell to Remus's side. Remus flinched away from him.

"It should get worse," Snape muttered. "I expect your throat will go hoarse from all the screaming. Don't disappoint me, Lupin."

Snape looked like he was about to leave and then thought better of it. He added quietly, "The full moon is tonight. Moon rise should be in a few hours' time. Gather what small amount of wit you have, Lupin. You'll need it."

Then he raised his wand and spelled the door open.

As he watched Snape go, for the first time since his arrival Remus felt a true twinge of hope.


	5. Part Five

No matter how many times Remus awoke with a jerk, half expecting to lock gazes with red eyes glinting with malevolence when he opened his own eyes, he couldn't bring himself to feel any bitterness. Or, at least, not much. And whatever waking horrors he had to relive each and every days were really only served to compound the saga that his life had always been.

Remus would never have a chance at a normal life. He'd learned to live with that fact over the years. That his life had become even more unusual was bearable because of that.

And even more so, it was bearable because thanks to the information he'd been able to deliver to Dumbledore upon his escape from the Death Eaters' clutches, Lily and James – and little Harry, as a result – _would_ have that chance at live.

He remembered James, horrified, whispering, "And to think, we were going to make Wormtail our Secret-Keeper."

In that moment, Remus had known that it was worth it. He hadn't allowed himself to forget that since then.

He'd take all the nightmares in the world on board if it meant that the people he cared about would stay safe and whole.

And though that was gift enough in and of itself, Lily and James insisted that they wanted to find some way to thank him for putting himself in danger in order to uncover the spy that was threatening them.

First they tried to repay him by asking him if he wanted to be their Secret-Keeper, seeing as the position had been left open by the revelation of Peter's true loyalties. Remus, knowing that the Death Eaters wouldn't have to work very hard to make him spill the secret in question should he be caught (he was already half broken, after all) had declined. No more had been said about it.

They had performed the Fidelius with Sirius instead, as it was always meant to be. And now they were as safe as they would ever be. Safe, and together, and reasonably happy.

Unfortunately, Sirius had had to go into hiding to protect everyone involved, himself included, for he really was the obvious choice of Secret-Keeper. Voldemort would be putting all his efforts into tracking Sirius down.

Remus wished that he had that kind of backbone. It was one thing to suffer through something and to find a way to come to terms with it in hindsight because of the good that had come out of it. It was another to knowingly set oneself up for that torture in the first place purely to protect other people's lives.

The others didn't seem to see that difference. They treated Remus as if he'd done the bravest thing in human history. Any idiot could be captured, he'd argued, but they hadn't let him disabuse them of the delusion that he was some kind of hero.

"Only a true Gryffindor could have made it out of there and still be able to keep on living," James had said.

And though Remus had told him, in one of his few moments of true honesty, that he was barely managing to continue existing, let alone properly _living_ , James stubbornly said that that just made him all the braver.

Neither James nor Lily seemed to have the word 'no' in their respective vocabularies. As such, they hadn't let him refuse their second offer of repayment for all he'd done for them.

So it was that he'd come to spend the past several months in reasonably quiet co-existence with the Potters under their Fidelius-protected roof.

On one hand, the constant reminder that the psychological effects of his capture weren't for nothing was helpful in keeping him grounded. Conversely, the close quarters only seemed to exacerbate his problems.

Whenever someone raised a wand in his general direction, he practically dove out of the way. He was always slightly stunned when the crack of magic he'd been expecting never came to lash at his skin.

James and Lily had accordingly taken to doing everything the Muggle way, where possible. Remus had tried to tell them it wasn't necessary. Just as he'd tried to convince James that he didn't have to go out of his way to make certain Remus wasn't discomforted by his closeness. On both counts his protests were always fobbed off.

"It's as much your house as ours, for now," James said. "We want you to be comfortable here."

Remus could see the unspoken message in James's eyes that they also wanted him to feel _safe_ there.

Remus wished he could.

Instead, he couldn't keep himself from flinching away every time James stepped a little too close to him. There had been a time when closeness to another man as attractive as James would have had just the opposite effect on him. And even though he couldn't stand to be physically near to him anymore, Remus still spent much of his time watching James. Sometimes it was completely innocent. Like now, when he was just leaning against the doorframe watching James put a reluctant Harry to bed.

Sometimes, though, he still caught himself fantasising about the way James's thighs – almost always completely hidden by his robes, even when they had no visitors in the house – curved into the perfect swell of his arse. It was a familiar pastime; he'd often thought about James that way during their school years. Unlike at Hogwarts, though, Remus could never quite bring himself to touch his cock while thinking those thoughts anymore, even when his cock was at full attention and practically begging to be stroked.

"You shouldn't torture yourself," Lily said from behind him.

Remus jumped slightly; he hadn't realised that she was there.

"Torture myself?" he asked.

Lily had no concept of true torture, he was certain. He was glad.

Lily graced him with a half-smile. "The way you look at James like that, and then act guilty whenever you catch yourself doing it. You don't have to. There's nothing wrong with looking."

Remus snorted, shifting his gaze back to the outline of James's back against the dim light. "I think James might have something different to say about that."

"You'd be surprised," Lily replied wryly.

She leaned in a little closer to him, though she moved so that she was beside him rather than behind him. Clearly she'd noticed that he didn't like having people close to his back. It felt too similar to the press of all those bodies against him as he was fucked against his will.

When Lily leaned against him and wrapped her arms comfortingly around him, Remus didn't move away.

The universe, with all of its ironies, apparently hated him. Of course now he'd only be anything even slightly approaching comfortable being close to women, who he had no real desire to actually _be_ close to in any way other than purely platonically.

Eventually Lily said, "I really want to help you, Remus. And I think I might know how."

Remus wasn't entirely certain what she was talking about – if she had any idea what his problem actually was, she'd know she couldn't help him with it, after all – but he was intrigued nonetheless.

When she reached up and pecked him lightly on the lips, Remus pulled away from her a little. It wasn't the sort of recoil he was prone to when James was around, though. It was simple shock.

"Lily, no. You're married."

Lily ran a hand down his arm. "It's okay, James knows about this. It was his idea. He wants help you, too. Probably more than you can imagine."

Remus couldn't honestly wrap his head around the idea that James could have given his wife permission to attempt to seduce his friend.

"I don't even like women that way!" Remus protested.

Lily's answering smile was vague. "I know. Don't worry, we have a plan."

The implication of her use of the word 'we' made a shiver run through Remus's body. He was dragged helplessly after Lily towards the bedroom she shared with James.

At some point between Lily sneaking up on Remus and the moment when Lily swung the door open and guided Remus into the room in front of her, James had clearly disappeared from the nursery into the master bedroom and disrobed. When Remus saw him sprawled naked across the huge bed, his cock went from completely flaccid to half-hard almost instantly. He cursed silently at himself.

James's cock was already very hard, though; a fact that was emphasised by the way his hand stroked up and down the length of it.

"Fuck," Remus breathed.

James smiled at him. It wasn't his usual whole-hearted grin or knowing smirk. Instead, James looked sheepish, and perhaps even a little nervous.

"Hey," James greeted. "Um, sorry we sprung this on you. Is this okay? We can stop. Your choice."

Remus would have loved to have been able to say that he'd never seen anything more _okay_ in his life. Had this happened just a few short months ago, that certainly would have been his response. Instead, he took in the sight of James's body and then looked back around to where Lily was standing in the doorway, not quite blocking off Remus's escape.

"I don't know. Maybe..."

He didn't want to tell them to stop. The fact that he _could_ , though, made all the difference.

Lily stepped closer to him once more. "We can stop at any time," she confirmed.

Remus nodded slightly.

To be honest, he wasn't certain that anything was going to _start_. His problem wasn't really becoming aroused. His cock jumped at every thought of sex, even the ones that shouldn't have been arousing. He sometimes hated that that was the case, but it wouldn't do much good to deny it.

No, Remus's problem was the feeling of a hand on his cock (or his balls and arse, for that matter). That was why he hadn't been able to bring himself to wank. Even his own right hand was too much for him. It felt just like they had.

Good Lord, but he was pathetic. He wished he could just get over it. He wasn't sure he ever would.

Lily, though, seemed to know his predicament before he even spoke up. She moved slowly, giving him time to protest, yet it still seemed like only an instant before she had the front of his robes undone and his cock in hand.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

It wasn't at all like his own touch, or the way any of the Death Eaters had yanked at his cock as if to taunt him with his own reactions. The skin of this hand was smooth and soft, and the hand itself petite. It touched him gently, in a way that he wastn't sure a man ever would.

He looked down at Lily's face, which was screwed up a little in concentration. She was beautiful in her way, he knew. But it was an intellectual knowledge. He wasn't attracted to her, or to any woman.

But the unexpected sense of relief in having what were so obviously not masculine hands on him...

It was a hopeless predicament. He couldn't get off with a man, even himself, but he couldn't get off with a woman, either.

"Look at me, Remus," James instructed softly, and Remus found his eyes following that command.

Then again, he quickly decided, perhaps it wasn't so hopeless after all. Lily's hand on him seemed to be more than enough, if the right enticement was also placed right in front of him.

He hadn't expected to feel any sense of contentment any time in the near future, considering how haunted he'd been feeling. But this... watching James pleasure himself while the hand caressed his cock was about as close to that as he could ever hope to experience in this lifetime. He wished he could articulate that thought, but it seemed beyond him.

After weeks of being hard without any means of relief, Remus wasn't surprised that he came long before James did. He didn't particularly mind. By the time the white haze had faded from before his eyes and he was feeling a little more coherent, he was able to witness James's orgasm with a perfectly clear mind.

He memorised the sights and sounds, and the scent of sex and James Potter swirled together in the air. And, most importantly, the complete lack of pain and humiliation that accompanied it all.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Lily asked as James panted, the last spurt coating his hand.

"It was _brilliant_ ," Remus admitted softly.

"It was certainly a first step," Lily said. "Hopefully once you get a little more comfortable with it, you'll start wanting to actually be close to men again."

"Which means we should definitely get in some practice, if you want," James chimed in from across the room with a hopeful sort of grin.

Remus frowned. "But what about you?" he asked Lily. "Surely you can't want to do this all the time. I mean, James and I get to get off, but... well, I'm gay. I mean, I suppose I could touch you if you really wanted me to, but..."

Lily ruffled Remus's hair, which in a way felt almost as good as the sexual release. "I _want_ to help you, silly. Besides, I wouldn't worry too much about me, if I were you. Remember how I said this was James's idea? Well, he and I made a little deal. Trust me, I won't be going unsatisfied."

Remus laughed for the first time since even before he'd been captured. It had been a long time since there had been anything worth laughing about.

"There you go," James said. "You're feeling better already. A bit of closeness does wonders, don't you think?"

Remus wanted to reach out and touch him, then, but he knew it would be a bad idea. However much he might want it intellectually, as soon as James actually got close to him he'd end up running in the other direction.

The worst part was, Remus could see the gleam in James's eyes that proclaimed he wanted exactly the same thing. Remus marvelled in that moment at how James must care for him, to dare to approach Lily about the possibility of them doing this together.

Remus wished he could run his tongue all over James's body and show him just how much he appreciated it. And just how much he cared about James in return.

For now, he would just have to content himself with the thought that they would do this again.

And the hope that maybe, someday not too far down the track, he actually would be able to run his hands over James's skin for real, not just in his imagination.

~FIN~


End file.
